Azalea
by Kitthalia
Summary: This is a story of a tangled family. Two witches, one muggle. A nephew, as well. How did Harry Potter end up with magic-hating Petunia if he had another aunt that loved magic? (Aunt Petunia never mentioned her, so maybe she studied beetles, or wrote salacious novels, or was an actor.) (Severus Snape preferred her to Petunia, so maybe she was horribly strict.)
1. Chapter 1

Lily peeked in at the door. Mummy and her sisters were in there, along with another person that Lily had never seen before. She didn't know that anyone have been visiting, as she had been out in the backyard alone, but she had gone inside to go to the bathroom and heard voices in the parlour, which they only used when Great-aunt Marie visited.

"So, Mrs Evans, I know this may have come as a shock, but it may also have cleared up some unexplained circumstances. Usually children's magic does tend to burst out, on occasion, especially at times of great emotion."

Lily shook her head. Did that woman say magic?

Cool.

She leaned in closer.

"Over the next few months, I will be introducing you to our world through our Muggleborn program. This isn't just for your daughter, but for your family as well, so you can understand our community and culture more."

Lily scrunched up her nose in thought. What was a muggleborn? It was like a made-up word, in her opinion. Lily liked making up words, though Petunia didn't appreciate it.

Leaning closer to the gap she tripped over her foot and fell, bashing into the door to fall into the room. She immediately turned bright red, clashing with her hair, and tried to shrink in a little. Mummy didn't like it when she eavesdropped. And the new woman would think her rude.

Mummy's admonishing voice rang through the Room. "Lily, I thought you knew better. Were you eavesdropping again?"

Lily nodded her head, ashamed, and uttered a woeful, "Yes, Mummy." She could feel Tuney's smirk, and turned to glare at her sister. Tuney thought she was so superior because she was nine, now, and Lily only seven. But she couldn't help her age, could she?

"Oh, well, it isn't as if your youngest wouldn't have found out anyway." The woman sounded vaguely Scottish to Lily.

Mummy's voice was still stern as she said, "Lily, this is Professor McGonagall. She is here to talk to us about Azalea going to a special school."

Intrigued, Lily forgot to be ashamed and turned to the newcomer. "What kind of school? Azzy's good at maths. Is it for maths? Or is it cause she can whistle? She can do all kinds of songs, and I only do this sort of squeaky noise."

Bemused, the woman turned to her eldest sister, raising an eyebrow. Azalea nodded in confirmation, grinning at Lily's enthusiasm.

"Well, Lily, is it? Your sister isn't going to our school for her maths or her whistling talent, admirable though it may be. Azalea, my dear, has magic."

Lily's eyes grew round.

"Indeed, you yourself may have some, or Petunia, too. If you do, when you turn eleven you can come to Hogwarts, which is a school of witchcraft and wizardry…"

Later that day, all Lily could think of was her sister, going away to a place with magic and a wand and unicorns and other cool things…

* * *

Lily swung idly, dragging her feet along the ground. She was bored. Zalea was away at Hogwarts, in her third year now, and Petunia was sulking again. Ever since the revelation that she did not have magic, Tuney had turned her back on her sisters, deciding that magic was only for babies, anyway. She hadn't wanted to play with Lily, and now she was all alone, waiting for something to happen.

Jumping off the swing, Lily made her way over to a patch of daisies in the sun. She could make a chain out of them, or something, perhaps. But none of them had opened fully, yet. She picked one anyway, angrily staring at it, willing it to open. She was so bored, and a daisy-chain would be pretty.

The daisy unfurled its petals, the morning sunlight shining on it.

Lily stared. Then she turned to another one, wanting it open as well.

It opened.

Of all the things!

It was magic. Pure, very cool magic.

She collected five more, and as they bloomed before her eyes she felt like she could sing. She didn't, mindful of the voice that Petunia said sounded like a frog, but she did hum underneath her breath as she strung them together.

A week later, all the daisies were gone. She sat idly in the swing again. What could she do now? She had played with the flowers, opening and closing them, until it felt like the simplest thing in the world, and now she had none left.

The swing creaked.

A wren flew overhead.

Lily's heart leaped. Could she fly? Her sister had written home, about broomsticks and how they could use them to fly, but it had always seemed a bit strange to Lily. Mostly because it would be very uncomfortable. Couldn't they grow their own wings?

Lily swung higher and higher. She wanted to fly like a bird, not clinging to a flimsy piece of wood.

When the swing reached its zenith, she jumped.

She was flying. It was, for a suspended moment, brilliantly pure. She was part of the sky, bright blue and sunshiny. It was fantastic.

Landing lightly on the ground, Lily's smile was sunshine incarnate.

Lily would have to write about it to Azalea about this, then show her when she came home next.

Lily sat in the shade of the willow, focussing on the flower in her hand. It was white, with faint tinges of purple. Concentrating hard, the colour began to intensify.

There was a rustle in the bushes behind her, and she guiltily dropped her hand to the ground, hiding the now -bright purple petals. Lily knew that she ought to be careful with her magic, but it was so hard not to do it.

A figure was emerging now, a boy. It looked to be someone about her age, but he was dressed in the most awful clothes. Lily wrinkled her nose for a second, then remembered Petunia's dislike of anything out of the ordinary and decided to be as unlike Petunia as she could manage.

"Hello. I'm Lily. It's nice to meet you." She refrained from mentioning that he had been hiding.

He was staring at her, now. His cheeks had a faint tinge of pink to them.

"And you are…"

Drawing himself up, he said, "I'm Severus", with a slight air of pride. Then, in a rush, as though it fell out of his mouth, "Do you know that you're doing magic? I can do it too, my mother's a witch as well but my father isn't."

Lily couldn't help a little smile. He was the strangest mix of both restraint and unbridled enthusiasm.

"Yes, I knew. I can do the flowers, and the swing is really fun. My sister Azalea is at Hogwarts now, in her third year. D'you know about it?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm gonna go there when I'm eleven."

"Zalea says that there are ghosts there, but she hasn't seen any unicorns yet."

Severus seemed relieved at her easy acceptance of him.

"Yes, Mam told me about the ghosts, but unicorns are rare, and they only like girls, really, so I probably won't see them even if there are some there…"

* * *

Azalea thumped the lid of her trunk closed once again, trying to close it properly without having to take anything out. Hogwarts, while being one of the best schools for magic, was, in Azalea's opinion, highly lacking in the literature department. She had hoped, going into third year, that there might be an elective focusing on language rather than magic, but had been disappointed. Now, going into her sixth year, she was even more so. Her friends at the local muggle comprehensive had been talking about how they had more options now for subjects, becoming a senior, but once again there hadn't been any option at all for what she wanted to study. She liked magic, yes, but it didn't feel quite enough for her.

Sadly resigning herself to asking her mother to owl her the two books that she had to take out, Azalea placed them on her bed and heaved her trunk down the stairs to set near the front door.

Behind her, she could hear Lily thumping down the stairs. Lily seemed to be inordinately excited at starting her second year, despite her frequent complaints about the "horrible stupid show-off James Potter".

"Hurry up, Zalea! We need to pick up Severus, remember, so we need lots of time."

Azalea was amused at exactly how much time her sister felt was needed, as it definitely did not take five hours to get to Kings Cross Station. But she didn't mind, not really. Petunia would take forever to get moving, anyway, with her complaints about the pointlessness of the journey. She could read a little, and talk to Lily and Severus, who were intelligent for soon-to-be second years. She had grown to appreciate the boy after she had introduced him to fantasy. Fancy someone not knowing who Bilbo Baggins was!

* * *

"Look, Lily, I know that it'll probably be a while until I see you again. But you won't be alone, remember, you've got Severus, and Tuney, even though she's a bit of a bitch sometimes. She's still your sister, you know. I need to go to Australia, and I'm not going to change my plans now. I've already applied and been accepted. It's too late."

A sixteen-year-old Lily scowled magnificently at Azalea, who wasn't fazed at all.

"I don't care about Petunia, I care about you! You can't just leave us! Petunia is horrible, and Severus- Sev just isn't the same anymore. "

Azalea shrugged, knowing that she was hurting her sister, but also that there was nothing Lily could do to change her choice.

"Lily, I know that it's far away, but you're away for most of the year anyway. I'll use muggle post to get my letters to Mum and Dad, then they can send them to you. It won't be any different. Now, what do you mean about Severus?"

The redhead glowered at her elder sister. "Severus's hanging out with all the Slytherin boys, and they're all real creeps. He called me a mudblood, too, just a few weeks back, at the end of our OWLs. I told him that if that was how he felt, I wouldn't be around him anymore."

Azalea tried to fit her head around this development. She had always thought that Severus was quite mature for a boy of his age, and nice enough not to be as unthinking as most teenage boys were. It was probably more that he was being influenced by peer pressure than that he had actually meant what he said. At least that was what she hoped.

She decided to drop the topic for the time being.

"Lily, I really want to go. It's such a fantastic chance, what with the literature study combined with the study of plants, potions and spells specific to the Australasian region. The integration of more muggle courses at University of Magical Sydney is so much better than what is available here. Yes, it's a long time away, but I might be able to visit in the holidays…"


	2. Chapter 2

Azalea glanced round the courtyard, which was packed with members of her family, a few people that she vaguely recognised, and many that she didn't. Holding the skirt of her dark blue and silver dress robe so it didn't drag on the ground, she headed over to the corner, where she could see Lily's fire-red hair like a beacon.

Lily looked like an angel in her ivory dress. The man next to her was handsome, Azalea supposed, but she only had eyes for her little sister. It was kind of funny, really, that Lily had married the very boy that she had wanted nothing to do with when she was younger. But then, everyone had to grow up sometime. Azalea just hoped that Petunia would, soon. She hadn't even come to her sister's wedding, despite the fact that Lily had been present at her own.

"Congratulations, Lily. You look beautiful today."

And she did. Her eyes were gleaming with a happiness that crept into the souls of all the people around her.

"Thanks, Azalea. It's good to see you."

Azalea rolled her eyes at her youngest sister. "You do realise that we saw each other just the other day, at Petunia's wedding."

'Well, sister dear, this past week has been the only time that we have been face to face in years. You didn't even visit for my graduation, either."

Azalea refrained from speaking on that. She was going to come, but she had missed her plane and then been unable to book another ticket in time. Portkeying did not agree with her at all, nor flooing. It made it rather difficult to travel anywhere quickly. Even apparition made her queasy. Her preferred mode of transport was an only slightly enchanted bicycle.

"And, Azalea, don't think that you can just run off on us again."  
Azalea, clasping her hands behind her back, twisted them slightly. She had a project lined up for the next year or so, where she wouldn't be able to be in contact with anyone. Maybe she should leave mentioning that until just before she left.

"But now, I need to introduce you to some people, Azalea. What with all your travelling… You probably don't remember their names even if you met them before. You know James, of course, as you met him a few days ago, but this is Remus- Remus Lupin. He was a friend of James' initially, but we've all gotten to know each other quite well. You'd probably like him, he likes reading almost as much as you do."

Remus Lupin, a tired-looking man, smiled at her. He seemed quite nice to Azalea. He wasn't participating in the conversation of the group, but was included by them anyway.

"And this is Sirius Black."

Azalea remembered him, even though he had only been one of the younger years when she was at Hogwarts. She supposed that setting off hundreds of timed dung bombs in the corridors did that to people. She was so glad that she hadn't been in the same house as him, if that was any indication of what his social skills were like. Perhaps he had matured.

"Marlene McKinnon, Mary Wentworth, Alice and Frank Longbottom…"

After the rush of faces that she tried hard to remember Azalea excused herself and walked away. She didn't feel that she knew any of them well enough to stay, save for Lily, and she had always found it difficult to converse with those she only had a small understanding of.

Minerva McGonagall found her ensconced in a corner, away from the crush of well-wishers.

"Miss Evans, as much as I can sympathise with your desire not to emerge, the point of a party is to socialise with others and celebrate."

Azalea smiled up at one of her favourite teachers. "Professor, I prefer to know who I am socialising with."

Her former teacher extended an arm. "Perhaps we might socialise together? I seem to be slightly above the average age of this gathering."

"Hmm, yes, that might work. You can talk about all your annoying little sprogs, and I can talk about my studies, and we can have a reciprocal conversation." She giggled, then let go of the formality in a rush. "Yes, please."

She gently took the older woman's arm, and was duly led to a quiet nook in the adjoining garden.

"Please, if you could call me Azalea. I haven't been Miss Evans for a good few years now. It feels really strange hearing it again."

'Of course. And I am Minerva. How had Australia been suiting you?"

Slipping a stray curl behind her ear, Azalea grinned. "It's wonderful. A little hot, but wonderful. The universities and schools there are more integrated into the muggle system, you know. They had a wonderful literature program at the University of Magical Sydney, and it was mainly muggle, but there were some interesting side notes relating to how magical society was affected by the texts, and how they were used. Did you know that ancient poems and songs were mostly magical in origin, and they enhanced the quality of potion brewing and spells? I first read about the theory over here, but they actually still use it in Australia, in the Aboriginal communities."

* * *

Azalea had felt quite giddily happy until she received the letter.

She had come home to her flat above the clothing store in Magical Sydney with a large grin on her face. She had applied, and been accepted for, a position working as a researcher for the university. And it wasn't just any position, but one that meant she would be part of a small team working in outback Australia alongside many of the indigenous magical peoples to study the differences and similarities between European and Indigenoustheir magics, encompassing potions and native plants for the main part. She also would be able to observe some of the more private rituals, and perhaps even take part in them.

The letter put a stop to all her excitement.

Azalea hadn't had very frequent contact with Britain, only being written to by Lily every month or so. Their parents had died in a motorcarway accident a year back, and Petunia had ceased to write after that. Azalea didn't mind overly much that Petunia wasn't writing, as she knew that she had only been waiting for an excuse to stop. But this letter wasn't from Lily.

Azalea hadn't a clue why Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfigurations, would write to her. Yes, she had liked the witch that had introduced her to magic. Yes, when they met they would carry on an interesting conversation. However, neither of them communicated regularly or could be called particularly close. If she had stayed in Britain, maybe they could have been friends, but Azalea hadn'didn't. So why would she be writing to her?

 _Dear Azalea Evans,_

 _I am afraid it has fallen to me to write this epistle to you, dear child. I am ashamed to say that not many remember you, and thus find it difficult to connect you with Lily and James Potter._

 _The wizarding world in Britain has been in the midst of war, as you know. In Australia, it may not seem so immediate to you, but to us the war was very real, escalating as it did around when you left for Australia. The war against the Dark Lord is no more, I am glad to say, as of yesterday. However, with this news I also bring dark tidings._

 _Your sister and her husband were murdered on the day of the defeat of our enemy. Forgive me for this bluntness, as I cannot think of a way to soften the blow. Murdered by the Dark Lord himself, and they went bravely. After your sister passed, our enemy tried to use a killing curse on her son. We are unsure of what truly happened, and it is mere guesswork I am presenting you with, but He-who-must-not-be-named died also, through the reflection of his curse, leaving baby Harry with only a small scar on his forehead. Albus, who you will remember as the headmaster, hypothesises that you sister's sacrifice is what saved her son and condemned the other to his fate._

 _I know that this is little consolation, but please remember that Lily Potter neée Evans died as she was in life- brave, kind-hearted, and willing to sacrifice all she had for the one she cared for the most._

 _Her son will be taken care of by relatives, although it is yet undecided who. Harry James Potter may grow without his mother and father, but I will see to it that he does not forget._

 _I mourn as you mourn_

 _My tears dwell with yours_

 _Through deepest sorrow and endless love_

 _We will remember her._

 _Yours,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

Azalea placed the letter on the table, her legs folding until she slumped on the couch. Her eyes stared blankly at the window in front of her. Her sister was gone. Dead. Her parents were too, and her other sister hadn't written in a year, and presumably wanted no more contact even with Lily gone. A tear trickled down her face as she realised that McGonagall had used one of the traditional elegies in her letter, which were usually kept inside a family, and had fallen out of favour in the last couple of hundred years. Of course, Lily had been close to her head of house, and McGonagall did seem a traditionalist.

She had no more ties to Britain. Perhaps she might visit for a week or so one year, to meet up with cousins that she barely knew, or to visit muggle acquaintances that were friends before she moved away, first to Hogwarts then oversea. She might even visit her old teachers, and talk to McGonagall and her old head of house. But she knew that she would most likely never return permanently. It would be too hard.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus Snape was furious. He had just re-entered his office after an extremely painful conversation with an addled Slytherin quidditch player to find Harry Potter ensconced in his memories. The blatant temerity of the brat, to invade his privacy like that, entering his pensieve without a care! He would ensure that there would be serious repercussions for that, on his magic.

He stalked over to reach a shaking hand in and pull the boy out by the back of his robes. By God, this was the last time that boy pulled a stunt like this. If he had to chain him up and set a bell and collar to him, he would.

His dark eyes glinted in rage as he took the boy by his shoulders and shook him, hard. The brat seemed frantic, now that he had been discovered enjoying viewing his teacher's memories.

"Ow- stop it, please, I-"

The pathetic mewling was cut off by a hissed, "Silence!"

Severus took a predatorial step forward, dragging the boy with him by his bony shoulders.

"What. Possessed. You. That is my pensieve, my memories. Not yours," he spat, "to pursue."

He slammed the boy against the stone wall, ignoring the small yelp.

"Enjoying it, were we, Potter? Revelling in the exploits of your sainted father and his companions?"

The moment the imbecile's mouth opened, he continued. "You could do with a good whipping, boy. Blatant disobedience. Invasion of a professor's privacy. Well?"

The boy began to struggle weakly, now that the shock had worn off. Severus shook him again, hard, and his idiot head banged off the stone. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he would have to be careful not to injure the child, but he found that he didn't care.

"Where are your manners, boy? Your sense? Your father was an arrogant idiot, but I would have hoped that your aunt would have raised you out of it. Obviously his genes were too strong to overpower, and the claim of 'raising the boy-who-lived' went to her head."

Severus forcibly loosened his grip a little, trying to calm down slightly.

The boy only gaped at him. Then he blurted out in a near-hysterical tone, "I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't realise, I didn't think, I- "

He cut off, gasping for breath. Severus clenched his teeth so tight it hurt.

"That is absolutely no excuse, boy. Have you no consideration that others may have affairs they don't want idiot, ignorant, asinine, teenage boys prying into?"

The boy was silent for a moment more, then he burst out hysterically. "Petunia won't care anyway. Write to her, do, and tell her." He laughed frantically. "Vernon will be so pleased- owl mail- they won't read it- they would be happy," he gasped, "if I were expelled." Winding down, he slumped, Severus's grip being the only thing holding him up.

Severus slackened his grip, confused. Petunia? He barely noted a lone tear sliding its way down the boy's face.

Harry took a shuddering breath, and forced himself not to cry. It was too much, what with his father and the yelling and Snape being right, Umbridge and the blood quill, and… Snape was right. His father was an arrogant bastard, a bully. And his mother had hated him, and Harry couldn't blame her. Was he really just like his father? His heart felt like it was about to explode, it was thumping so loudly.

Harry slumped further down, till Snape's loosened hands had let go and he was sitting awkwardly on the floor, wanting nothing more than to no longer exist. He wished that he were up in his dormitory, laughing with Ron, and that Dumbledore had never even mentioned occlumency lessons too him. He felt progressively queasier as the silence continued, Snape still standing over him. What was the man going to do?.

"Petunia?"

The breaking of the silence startled Harry, and he whipped his gaze up to his Professor, whose hands had dropped to his sides. Blinking confusedly, he couldn't help but notice that the man, while still angry, had calmed down and no longer seemed ready to hit him. Snape actually seemed more bewildered and tired than murderous.

Harry rubbed his eyes fiercely. "What?" His tone came out defensively and he tried to moderate it, scared to anger the man again. "Er- sorry. What, sir?"

"You are staying with your Aunt Petunia, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes, exhausted. "Huh? I mean, yes, I spose. Vernon and Petunia and Dudley and me. One great big happy family."

Snape seemed to hesitate, then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. "Come," he ordered. Harry found himself trailing after the elder man to be seated in the hard chair in front of the desk. He fiddled with his hands, his gaze down on his lap while Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in a surprisingly human way.

"Look at me, Potter."

Harry raised his eyes unwillingly, feeling a massive surge of guilt. He had invaded the man's privacy, and seen what must have been his innermost thoughts and experiences. He deserved whatever was coming.

"You live with your Aunt Petunia." It was a statement, not a question. "What of your other aunt?"

Harry's nose wrinkled in confusion as he tried to process this. "Aunt Marge? She doesn't like me, only bulldogs and Dudley, and she's not actually related to me."

"No, Potter, not that Aunt." Snape's voice was tight with exasperation.

"But I don't have any others. Or did my father have a sister? Are there any relatives on that side?" He abruptly closed his mouth, remembering who he was speaking to. He had almost become excited then, but knowing his luck they'd either be dead or as bad as his father. His father, who had bullied Snape. The man wouldn't want to talk about the relatives on that side.

He offered a rather meek "Sorry, sir," as the man sitting across from him stayed silent.

Snape let out a small sigh, then folded his hands neatly on the table.

"What of your other aunt, Potter, your mother's eldest sister? I believe she was four years older than your mother, and two years older than Petunia. What do you know of her?"

Harry was now extremely confused. Another sister? His mother had another sister?

"Petunia never mentioned an elder sister. I don't think we ever met one, either." He frowned at that. "Why does it matter? Not that it doesn't matter to me, but why does it matter to you at all?"

"Potter, you will address me with the-"

"Yeah, with the respect and all that. Sir. Why though? Oh. Why, _professor_?"

Snape rapped his hand sharply on the desk, catching Harry's attention.

"Potter, your disrespect tonight has been astounding considering you have recently snooped in my pensieve. I will say it again. You will. Address me. With respect."

He held the boy's gaze until it dropped, with a muttered 'Yes, sir," that sounded contrite.

"Look at me, boy. Do you know anything of her? I was under the impression that you had been housed with her, Petunia being less than welcoming to those who are magical."

Harry, meeting his teacher's eyes, was surprised that the man had actually deigned to answer his question.

"Anytime soon, if you please, Potter."

"Look, I've never heard of another aunt til you said I had one just then. I've lived with Petunia all my life. Sir." He couldn't help but think that maybe he would like it if he did live with this supposed other aunt, even if Snape seemed to prefer her. Then again, that was to Petunia. His mind seemed all tangled. A new aunt- or rather one that he'd never heard of.

Harry, watching Snape, saw that the older man did not seem inclined to say anything. This gave him the courage to ask the question that had been bothering him.

"What was her name?"

Snape's eyes seemed to focus on his again, and he added a hasty "sir".

"Your mother's eldest sister was called Azalea Evans. I do believe that flower names were a tradition in the family." He shook his head a little, just a quick jerk, which seemed to clear his mind back to its usual state. "Potter, I will think on this. Azalea would have been entirely preferable for placement considering Petunia's hatred of anything out of the ordinary. I need to find why you were placed with her instead."

Harry nodded bemusedly, wondering if the man was off-centre enough to forget about the incident with the pensieve. It certainly seemed that way, and Snape had sounded as if he were ending a lecture with his last few sentences.

A long, potion-stained hand shot out and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to stare into the dark ones of the potions master. Harry had known that it would be too good to be true.

"This in no way excuses your disgusting behaviour and abhorrent treatment of my privacy, boy. You will report to me tomorrow evening to further discuss suitable repercussions. I believe that what you have done is worthy of detentions for the rest of the year, and don't you even try to deny it. I will consider whether I will teach you further occlumency."

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry once more. Snape would eviscerate him when he was no longer distracted, he was sure. And he knew that he needed the occlumency, even if Snape was a horrid teacher.

"Out." The man pointed a long finger at the door. Harry wasted no time, scurrying away out of the dungeons then running up to Gryffindor tower.

Severus leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. The Potter boy had been placed with Petunia, the girl who had shunned magic and bullied her smaller sister about it. He had no idea what to think about this fact. When living with Azalea, any bad manners and arrogance was not so much product of his upbringing as of his father's genes, a way of bad blood outing itself. With Petunia- he wasn't so sure. Petunia would not have coddled the boy. Petunia would not have taught any basic potions techniques that any child with a magical parent should have known before stepping foot in Hogwarts.

Was Potter really incalculably lazy, or just exceedingly ignorant due to his upbringing as what would have amounted to a muggle with no knowledge of magic? Was his arrogance and stupidity an asinine teenage reaction against those who had housed and taught him or the actions of a clueless boy who had no idea of what he was doing?

Severus Snape had no idea. The only thing he knew for sure was that Petunia would never have treated a magical nephew well in any sense of the word.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry knew that he made a weird picture as he burst into the common room, out of breath from running up the stairs. He was the strangest mixture of dreading intensely his upcoming fate with Snape and of high excitement.

Spotting Ron and Hermione waiting for him, he made his way quickly over to them. The first thing that came out of his mouth was an overly loud exclamation.

"I have an aunt!"

Harry felt like bouncing on the spot. The other Gryffindors who had turned at the noise seemed content to now ignore him, dismissing any quirks as part of the craziness of the 'chosen one'.

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks, and then seemed to debate silently who would say anything.

Ron coughed slightly. "Yes, Harry, we know."

This was news to him. "Really? How did you know? I only learnt today, and I don't see how you could know about her yet." He quietened down a little, becoming a little worried at the looks the pair were exchanging. They seemed to think that he was insane, from the way they were frowning.

Brushing a stray curl out of her face, Hermione said, "Harry, you live with her. Of course we know."

"Oh. No, not that aunt. I have a new one. Her name is Azalea. Another aunt!"

His friends held looks of dawning comprehension. Of course, it would be good for them if their friend wasn't insane, Harry thought wryly.

"Err- that's good, mate." There was a pause, and then Ron, after flicking a look at Hermione first, asked, "Do you know anything else about her?"

Harry deflated promptly. No, he didn't. It wasn't as if Snape was ever free with information. Harry had no idea how the man even knew about his mother's family.

Shaking his head, making dark hair fly about, Harry said slowly, "No. Not really." Remembering, he added, "I think she's around four years older than my Mum."

"Well, that's a start, I suppose, Harry." Hermione peered closer at him. "You look really tired, you know. It's like you are just about to crash."

Harry nodded, able to admit that this was probably true.

"Oh, yeah. I have detention tomorrow too. And probably for the rest of the year, knowing Snape. But I still have a new aunt!"

His two friends now seemed to be almost permanently bemused.

"Harry-"

"Goodnight!"

He jogged away from them, now simply eager to go to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Harry was not nearly so excited. The shock had worn off, and reality kicked in. Petunia had never mentioned a sister, to the extent of his knowledge. This could be the result of a few things. The reason he hoped for was that she merely disapproved of anyone who didn't react the same way as she did to magic, which meant they were estranged, or that Petunia disapproved of her because of some trivial reason, like hating Uncle Vernon. That would be good.

But Harry knew that, just as equally, he could never have heard of her because of something else. Snape might be confused. She might have died. Or, if Snape did prefer her to Petunia, she might be absolutely horrible and believe in ridiculously strict discipline. That was probably quite likely, come to think of it.

Then again, not much could be worse than living with Petunia and Vernon. And, even if he did get to know her and she was awful, he didn't have to associate with her. So, perking himself up, he contented himself with imagining more and more far-fetched things that Petunia would have been ashamed to acknowledge in a sister. This Azalea could have become a musician. She could have run off with the circus, or decided to live in Saudi Arabia. Maybe she had a love of animals and studied different types of beetles…

* * *

Laying his cutlery down precisely, Severus Snape looked out across the head table to watch the students. His Slytherins seemed to be fine, though Montague still seemed to be lacking the ability to focus properly. Moving his gaze across the hall, the Ravenclaws didn't seem to be up to anything more mischievous than reading the odd book under the table, and the Hufflepuffs were clustered in little groups, chatting quietly, or, in the case of the Smith boy, obnoxiously. That child had mastered the art of annoying as many people as possible.

On the table draped in red and gold, things were not nearly so calm. The idiot McLaggen seemed to be boasting about his non-existent conquests, and was brandishing his knife rather violently. Brown and Patil were giggling stupidly. Why did all the upper years of that house have to be so irritatingly imbecilic? The first and second years this time were bearable, but all the rest seemed to be exceedingly awful.

The Potter boy was not talking, just tracing circles on his plate with his knife. Good. That boy had better be nervous.

In a measured movement, Severus stood. On his right, Minerva turned her attention on him.

"Where are you going, Severus? Dinner isn't over yet."

Lining his seat up with the edge of the table, Severus replied.

"I have an… appointment… with Mr Potter. I need to prepare for it, so I am leaving. In all probability, I shall not be in the staffroom later tonight."

Minerva closed her eyes for a long moment, seemingly in sufferance. Of course, she would be worried, with all the attention the boy was receiving from Umbridge.

"I won't delay you, then. I will see you tomorrow morning, I suppose. Goodnight."

He inclined his head to her, then swept away to the doorway behind the dais. Time to think on how to deal with Potter.

* * *

Severus had no idea how he had managed to get stuck in the staffroom with Dolores Umbridge for company. The infernal woman seemed to want to talk with him, or rather _at_ him, and he now he was delayed.

"Oh, Professor Snape, your fifth-year Slytherins are being extremely helpful with my little project."

All he had wanted was to fetch the papers that he had left behind before meeting to exact his vengeance on Potter, and he was stuck with _this_.

"… and Draco Malfoy is being especially diligent, Severus- may I call you Severus? He and Miss Parkinson are finding many offenders and are not afraid to use their power over them wisely."

Draco Malfoy was a pompous idiot, and _how could such a small woman block a doorway so well_?

Wait.

"No, you may _not_."

He glared at her, noting with disgust her overly large and gaudy brooch. He had been trying to avoid looking at her, but he now found that it just gave him more reason to detest her.

"Hmm? What was that, Severus?"

"You may not call me by your first name, as I have not yet given you leave to." He clenched his fingers around the papers and raised a scathing eyebrow at her. His tone becoming sarcastic, he said, "I doubt that I will ever give you leave, considering my relationship with you."

Severus left it at that for her to mull over his meaning. He felt that he could have gone on a lot longer, and maybe added something along the lines of _professional conduct with you would be giving credit where it is not due,_ or _I would sooner talk with Harry Potter than with you_.

That was certainly true. Of course, with Potter he was the one to hold the power. With Umbridge, he had to at least _pretend_ that he respected her slightly.

"Why, I- What do you mean by that?"

"Merely that I do not believe that we ought to be on first name terms, as your role of High Inquisitor should be impartial. By speaking with me in a more intimate fashion, you bow to partiality, Madam Umbridge _." And disgust me with your forwardness._

She simpered at him, waving a ringed hand in the air. "Oh, if that is the case, then… What was I saying? Oh, yes, Miss Parkinson has been very skilled at finding female offenders. However, that Miss Bulstrode has been quite unpleasant, and not helpful in the least. She is a blight on the rest of that year-group for your house."

Millicent Bulstrode was not afraid of telling the truth, and was likely to have told it to Umbridge in all of its ugly glory. He was quite fond of her, if he could be said to be fond of any of his students. Her ambition was well thought out and didn't compromise her morals in the least.

"Said some very nasty things about my discipline methods…"

Severus stepped forward, and said in a slow, pointed manner, "I must leave now. I have a detention to attend to." He wished that he could be pointed in more than his manner- she deserved to have a sharp pointy thing dug into her.

"A detention? Well, I am not one to get in the way of rightful discipline."

"Yes, a detention." If it wasn't technically, it was because he had thought of much worse things to do to the boy. "Let me leave or I shall be late."

"If I may ask, who is it being punished?"

What right had she to ask? But if it let him _leave_ … "Harry Potter. _Excuse me_."

She barely had time to step aside before he swept past her. He wanted to slam the door in her face, but refrained because it would mean he would be delayed even more to comment on how strange it was that a gust of wind was slamming all the doors in its path.


End file.
